


Ache

by shadowsorel



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Lack of development, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsorel/pseuds/shadowsorel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With crystal clear memories imprinted, no time is sufficient to forget a friend. (A small drabble.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ache

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on tumblr, but no one cares. So here.

As his dress shoes tread the dewy, fresh green grass, he could still recall his smile, the way he laughed and spoke to him. He could remember the way his hair cascaded over his soft, smooth skin. He could still picture how clear his eyes were, the way the irises’ color pooled into them and shone. He could recall the way his quiet voice would grow a bit louder around him, a definite sign that he was completely comfortable around him. He could recall each of his sounds as clear as a bell, remember his appearance as if he saw him yesterday.

It has been two years.

As his thumb bleeds, Thomas still lingers on these thoughts. Sometimes, he still felt a tiny sliver of hope that he would come back. Sometimes, he would imagine him and Guy being able to chat and sing and joke how they always have. Sometimes, he would even think about being able to kiss him again, even though it was the most farfetched occurance of them all.

None of it will ever happen again.

Thomas lets a few tears run down his cheek, remembering the words to the last time they would speak to each other.

_"What the hell! I didn’t want this—"_

_"I’m sorry!"_

_"No, you’re not!" he cried. "If you were, you wouldn’t have done that! Stop playing tricks on me, you— you—" He gave up on the insult._

_"I’m not trying to—"_

_"Stop it! I can’t stand it! You just kissed me!"_

_"Yes—"_

_"What kind of joke are you trying to play on me… ?" he asked his friend._

_"I- I’m— Guy…" He was unable to answer, unable to form a coherent sentence. He had crashed from that high, ecstatic sentiment, only being shown the evident rejection._

_"It’s not funny—"_

_"I know, but—"_

_"Then why did you do it?! Answer me! I’m not going to tolerate you and your sick sense of ‘humor’!"_

_"I love you…" the young man whimpered._

_The shorter man punched the taller one in the cheek. Upon seeing Thomas on the ground, he could no longer tell if he was being honest, or if it was just a crush charade that he insisted on dragging on._

_"I hate you!" He finally yelled, after minutes of silence. "I can’t put up with you anymore! I’m just sick of your babbling and your fidgeting and your lying! I know you don’t feel that way, so stop trying to act like you do!"_

_"Guy—!"_

_"Stop lying…" he said. He then walked away from him, getting into the car, and going further and further away from him until he was only a dot, then disappearing from his life._

A reunion wasn’t likely between the two. Thomas knows this far too well. He knows Guy was gone and it was his fault and he was the reason for everything and it aches it aches it _aches_.

He’s tired. He’s tired of remembering the fight. He’s tired of everything pertaining to Guy. He’s tired of wishing for him to come back home and hang out with him and make music and sing. He’s tired of missing him.

Thomas kneels on the soft, moist dirt by the stone. He lets the rose fall from his hand, crying and still not completely accepting that his feelings for Guy haven’t been acknowledged.

And staring at the stone, seeing the name carved on it, knowing that they never will be.


End file.
